Saturday, August 08, 2009

Love Advice from Saturn

A man bought a property with a well on it. What’s that, he asked? Oh that’s where you get your water from, said a neighbor. The man didn’t know much about wells and within a few months he used up all the water in the well. One day the bucket came up empty. That’s no good, he thought. I need to fill my well up again. Since he had no more water, he threw whatever he could find into the well, cans of coke and beer and old swamp water he collected from behind the outhouse; he even tried pissing in the well, but nothing seemed to work. In the end the well got all jammed up with the junk he threw in there, and he had to move to a new house, with a new well, where the same thing happened. The man is still moving houses every time his well runs dry.

Someone should have told him that wells replenish themselves after a while – the main thing is not to exhaust the supply of water, and to give time for new water to bubble up from the ground. But since he threw lots of junk into the well, there was no way for the water to come through, and what little did was too polluted to drink.

Another metaphor, perhaps more suited to Saturn, god of agriculture and harvest: when a field has been harvested of its crops, it is sometimes necessary to raze that field – set fire to the surface – and leave it fallow for a year, so that the nutrients in the soil can be replenished, and crops grow abundant again the following year.

The field, the well – the human heart.

To fear the wound is to fear the pussy, and vice versa.

We do not miss the water until the well runs dry, because until it does, we cannot imagine it ever will. So we deplete the resources of the well – our inner being – by using the water of our emotions - and our sexuality - carelessly and wantonly.

To not exhaust the waters of our inner being would be best. But personal love is a desperate thing, and our first few tries at it, we cannot help but squeeze and suck the life out of it, mostly from a fear of losing it! Just so, a man drinks more water than he needs, out of fear the well will someday run dry.

Once the waters are dried up and the taste of true love has grown bitter, we seek a new love to take away that bitter taste. It would be wiser to remain in that bitterness, to allow the empty void within us to remain and not try to fill it, no matter how great our emptiness becomes. By holding that space, as the days of our longing increase, what is under the surface of our emptiness begins to bubble forth. The longer we hold the space, the more deeply we are able to be in that space, the greater the pull, the desire to be filled.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

When we try to fill that emptiness, we prevent the natural laws of the Universe from intervening, in their own sweet time, from correcting that imbalance and filling the void with our heart’s unspoken desire. This can only happen when the desire remains unspoken and unacted upon.

Perform a ceremony to Venus. Give thanks to all those women who have temporarily filled the void within you, but who have been unable to satisfy the bottomless longing of your wound. Thank them and wish them well. This will help to clear the space of that clutter which you tossed into the well, hoping to fill it, knowing not how.

In your thanks and appreciation to Venus – as you surrender your longing – be also identified with Venus, as you are, in that wound, the wounded Venus, the cat that would stalk out of her own sense of wounded longing. Be not the one who takes, but the one who receives; be not the conqueror but the conquered.

The solar hero? One who holds that space for Woman to fill. The one who restrains his desire from a still deeper desire: to protect and heal the wounded anima.

Saturn says: allow thy austerity to reign in thy passion, and put thy passion in service of thy virtue.

Jason and the Argonauts...story from wiki.After the death of King Cretheus, the Aeolian Pelias usurped the Iolcan throne from his half-brother Aeson and became king of Iolcus in Thessaly (near the modern city of Volos). Because of this unlawful act, an oracle warned him that a descendant of Aeolus would seek revenge. Pelias put to death every prominent descendant of Aeolus he could, but spared Aeson because of the pleas of their mother Tyro. Instead, Pelias kept Aeson prisoner and forced him to renounce his inheritance. Aeson married Alcimede, who bore him a son named Diomedes. Pelias intended to kill the baby at once, but Alcimede summoned her kinswomen to weep over him as if he were stillborn. She faked a burial and smuggled the baby to Mount Pelion. He was raised by the centaur Chiron, who changed the boy's name to Jason.

in all the Argo myth ,the only place i can find ref. to dan is the DarDANelles ,the Hellespont ,where helle falls off the golden fleeced flying'swimming ram to be one with the sea as Phrixus rode on to the land ...anyway here goes..In Greek mythology, Phrixus (also Phryxus) (Greek: Φρίξος) was the son of Athamas, king of Boiotia, and Nephele (a goddess of clouds). His twin sister Helle and he were hated by their stepmother, Ino. Ino hatched a devious plot to get rid of the twins, roasting all of Boeotia's crop seeds so they would not grow. The local farmers, frightened of famine, asked a nearby oracle for assistance. Ino bribed the men sent to the oracle to lie and tell the others that the oracle required the sacrifice of Phrixus and Helle. Before they were killed, though, Phrixus and Helle were rescued by a flying, or swimming,[1] ram with golden wool sent by Nephele, their natural mother; their starting point is variously recorded as Halos in Thessaly and Orchomenus in Boeotia. During their flight Helle swooned, fell off the ram and drowned in the Dardanelles, renamed the Hellespont (sea of Helle), but Phrixus survived all the way to Colchis, where King Aeëtes, the son of the sun god Helios, took him in and treated him kindly, giving Phrixus his daughter, Chalciope, in marriage. In gratitude, Phrixus sacrificed the ram to Zeus and gave the king the golden fleece of the ram, which Aeëtes hung in a tree in the holy grove of Ares in his kingdom, guarded by a dragon that never slept.

Phrixus and Chalciope had four sons, who later joined forces with the Argonauts. The oldest was Argos.